


Home

by Hectatess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 07:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12743373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hectatess/pseuds/Hectatess
Summary: He is coping. His brother is gone, and he has to get on with life. He does, but sometimes he just goes ‘round the bend. His home is gone, his heart is broken, but still beating. Where is his home now?





	Home

Grunting at the harsh rays of the sun, he squeezed his eyes shut tighter. The musty smell of the pillow turned his stomach. God, he shouldn’t have drunk the gutrot last night. With a huff, he hoisted his large frame out of the bed and stumbled to the bathroom.

Running his fingers over his chin made a raspy sound and he looked up at his reflection. _‘Sweet mother... what a hot mess you are.’_ he thought wryly, pulling a hand through his hair. It had been one of those nights. Another month. Another month alone. He thought he had been doing better, but hitting another marker had pulled him down. Blarily staring at his own eyes, he decided to make an effort. Basic hygiene. He washed his face, the cold water making him hiss and shudder. He could hear him in his head... his brother.

“Time to go. We are burning daylight.”

But he wasn’t. Not anymore. He had no place to go, no hunts lined up, no demons clamouring for his head on a plate. No solace to be found... Shaking his head, he grabbed the toothpaste and braved the minty flavour, hoping it would chase away the aftertaste of that bottle and a half of JD. He gagged, but persevered. Once he deemed his teeth clean enough, he once again checked his reflection.

The scruff.... it would have to go. It wasn’t good. It looked off. His own brother would call him a homeless bum, if he ever saw him like this. His eyes cast down, look turning inward, infinitely sad. He should stop thinking like this, but he couldn’t. Memories pressed themselves to the front of his brain, and his hands stilled, resting lightly on the cold porcelain of the basin. His eyes darted left and right, unseeing, as his treacherous mind replayed all those moments.

Finally he looked up again, starting out of his reverie. Rubbing his mouth, he sighed. When he took out the clippers, he smirked.

“I swear... gimme five minutes with the clippers....”

Never gonna happen now... his evil thoughts supplied. Licking his dry lips, he pressed the button, making the thing buzz to life. With sure hands, he got rid of the scruff. Feeling the smooth skin under his hands, he felt slightly better. He picked up his stuff, and threw it in the duffel next to the bed. He should go back. Pick up his life, THE life, but he couldn’t.

Pulling on his clothes, he let his mind wander again. He knew others worried about him, but he couldn’t care. Last time... last time he had a crutch to help him cope. An unhealthy one, his brother would be the first to point that out, but also the last to mind. He had done the same once.

“You hurt my brother, I swear to God...”

How often had they said it? Either of them? He couldn’t remember for the life of him. The angels had called them ‘dangerously codependant’. Shucking his collar straight, he had to disagree. He got along... he survived... He had days in which he barely thought about his brother. Unless he hit another marker. God. His brother’s birthday... it had been the worst. He’d worked so hard to ignore it... but it had niggled in his brain the whole day, taunting him.

They never were big on celebrations, but pie was a given, any birthday. He’d bought a slice of apple and forced it down. “Here’s to you, brother.” Later that night, he had flushed it down the drain, his stomach rebelling. But on other days... he was doing ok. He had a pretty normal life.

His phone rang and he just picked up. “Yeah?” The voice on the other side had him nearly drop his phone. How could it be him? He felt tears sting in his eyes. It couldn’t be... Gripping the overpriced hardware tight and breathing hard, he gasped out his name. The one name he thought he could never use again in second person. “Hey brother...” came the answer, smile audible. His knees hit the floor, tears running down his cheeks.

They agreed to meet, in a place no-one else knew about. “Safety first.” his brother had said. The door to the Impala squeaked shut and he licked his lips. Glad he’d freshened up, he tentatively opened the door, his heart beating one name... Then he was trapped in a bone-crushing hug, the warm, relieved chuckle of his brother sounding in his ear. He was home. At last, he was home!

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry folks. This came to be after seeing Jaredand Gen’s AMAZING performance in ‘I am human’ by the Brian Buckley Band. And it rolled from there. Did you guess this was Sam? Or did you think it was Dean. HELLS. It can be either, can’t it? Love from Holland.


End file.
